


The Fine Line Between Love, Hate

by strata



Series: The Likelihood of Unlikely [1]
Category: ENHYPEN (Band), I-LAND (Korea TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Fan Letters, Implied Romance, Love/Hate, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 02:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strata/pseuds/strata
Summary: Fan letters under the waning daylight between two people who can’t be as different as they already are.
Relationships: K (I-LAND)/Kim Sunoo
Series: The Likelihood of Unlikely [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211042
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Fine Line Between Love, Hate

**Author's Note:**

> ** i wrote a kei/sunoo fic a few months back that i deleted because someone commented that it was "illegal." it did involve a kiss, and originally i was going for something tasteful, maybe a love story or a self-discovery fic, but in the interest of avoiding conflict, i decided not to continue it. still, the _lacking_ relationship between these two people, who we hardly saw interact during I-LAND, is something very interesting to me. for now, i'll probably just churn out these vague little fics about them from time to time in order to satisfy myself lol. i hope you enjoy this and i'd love to know what you think. **

**_there’s this belief that_ **   
**_we’re all sorts of special_ **

The short downpour after such a hot summer day has left the air thick, and breathing is a bit like inhaling syrup. From his perch on this old train station’s concrete platform, Kei sighs as he swipes at the sweat running down the back of his neck, palm coming away damp and sticky. He wipes it at the end of his shirt as he resumes his mindless staring, eyes fixated on the tops of the brightly lit warehouses in the distance. 

**_that each of us is unique_ **   
**_and unlike no other_ **

He wonders why they keep at this. They meet in this same place on the same date, at the same time, each month barring ENHYPEN’s busy schedule and debut preparations on his end. When the industrial district is just winding down, factory engines groaning to a stop one by one, this chunk of the world concluding a hard day’s work with satisfying silence is their cue to see each other. 

Kei wishes he were anywhere else but here to be honest, though at the same time, he’s been looking forward to this all month. 

**_but aren’t we just the_ **   
**_reflection of many people_ **

He hears the far off cheerful whistling first, and it’s a tune that’s only starting to take shape. Kei closes his eyes, listening to the way each set ends on a different note. _Is this right? How about this?_ An experiment in sound, punctuated by the skippy footsteps that echo slowly and surely toward its destination. 

Cradling the stack of fan letters sitting on his lap, tied together with pretty twine and carefully re-sealed as if they’ve never been opened, Kei sighs again and waits. 

**_aren’t we the product_ **   
**_of what already exists_ **

There’s always a moment of pause once both of them has arrived, their feet dangling and swinging on the platform edge: a meeting of constellations, one as bright as the other. I-LAND had been an eye-opener for them both: brought to their attention the vast difference between them that the world, divided, has come to hate and love. Sometimes the hate goes to the wrong person, which is why they’re here. 

Sunoo resumes whistling after several seconds, putting a dainty-looking box between them and pushing it towards him, interrupting himself long enough to utter a couple of words. 

“Here, hyung.”

**_isn’t the word_ ** **unique**   
**_just a lovely myth_ **

“This is yours.”

Kei puts the tied stack beside Sunoo before taking the box meant for him. In continued silence, they move together and get to unwrapping at the same time. The only sound is the crinkling of paper, louder than the approaching train in the distance. Sunoo continues whistling as they read, and Kei lets the mindless tune wash over him as the ground beneath them shakes. 

**_a way to carve out_ **   
**_our own existence_ **

**A few months ago…**  
Hate mail is damaging in ways failure isn’t, but it doesn’t have to be damaging for everyone. 

_That had been the opening sentence of Sunoo’s very first letter to him. It had been a surprise to receive anything, much less a handwritten letter, from someone in I-LAND that Kei had barely spoken to. But here it is._

They compare us all the time even though we’re so different, but I don’t want it to ruin me. I’ll let my hate mail help you instead. I hope you read them, hyung.

**_so that people remember_ **   
**_because worse than dying_ **

_The letter had come with a package: a recycled box, the expensive ones made of hard paper found in cutesy little craft stores. It’s filled with envelopes addressed to Sunoo, but just like what he said, they’re all mail that hates on him but praises Kei._

_A week later, Kei sends his own hate mail on the return address indicated on Sunoo’s package._ To un-ruin things, _Kei had written back, a stack of fanmail tied with delicate twine having been paired with his answering letter._ Here’s mine. Please read them too, Sunoo-yah. 

**_is having never existed_ **   
**_when people slowly forget_ **

Things had evolved from there, and he’s been meeting Sunoo here ever since. It had been Kei’s idea; he didn’t think sharing something as personal as insecurities warranted a _penpal relationship_ only.

Sunoo had selected the place, and when Kei had asked why the first time they came face to face on the very platform they were sitting on, he’d received this answer: _“Wouldn’t it be funny if someone discovered this a few years later, not knowing why you and I kept it so discreet or such a secret?”_

**_aren’t we more similar_ **   
**_than the ways we’re not_ **

“How’s stardom?” 

Kei only speaks again after the train has passed, leaving their hair a wild mess. Neither of them move to fix it, too busy devouring words that love so dearly but hate as fiercely. Sunoo shrugs, amused and timid in ways he usually isn’t. 

“Wouldn’t call it that, but if you insist—it’s tiring, hyung. How’s the upcoming debut?”

Kei picks up a new letter from his box without skipping a beat and shrugs back, squinting at the small handwriting in it. 

“Same. I think at this point, we’re all just tired.”

The semi-silence drags on what with the train still audible far away, only interrupted by an unexpected summer drizzle. Neither of them move, and the growing pile of crumpled stationery by the train tracks get shredded by the gentle force of the falling raindrops.

**_aren’t we? just lonely_ **   
**_stars in our own galaxy_ **

Sunoo finishes reading first. He always does. 

It takes a while but when Kei’s done, when his box is empty and all Sunoo has is the twine, they share the stillness and watches the day wane. Another train is in the distance, making its way back to them from the same direction the other one had gone to, and as the day finally begins to break is only when Sunoo starts talking. 

“I kind of hate you, hyung,” he mutters. It’s not the first time he tells Kei that. Leaning back where they’re seated, he only smiles at hearing the familiar words. But as opposed to keeping silent and not answering, which has always been the case for him, he turns his head and looks at Sunoo after a nod at the approaching train. 

“I know. Should I throw myself that way?”

Sunoo follows his gaze, the train’s headlights blinding in the deepening night. At length, he shakes his head and Kei laughs softly.

“Why not? You think you’re going to miss me when I’m gone?”

 **_reaching out and_ **  
**_finding nothing_**.

Sunoo allows the train to pass without saying a thing, its sound deafeningly loud. Eventually, with careful hands that straighten his hair and dusts his pants off, he chuckles as he stands up without meeting Kei’s eyes. The sound is as sweet as it is bitter.

“I think I’ll live, hyung.” 

But then he raises a hand and settles it atop his chest, right above where everyone knows they have their beating heart, and for a fraction of a second, Sunoo meets his eyes. 

“Just not here. Good night.”

Kei doesn’t watch Sunoo go, but he listens—the cheerful whistling more forlorn, getting farther and farther away, fading. But it’s complete now, maybe the beginning of a song. The start of a story. 

Perhaps its end. 


End file.
